The Future

An Extraordinary Life

Screenshot_2016-01-28-14-50-17-1

“You have so many extraordinary gifts; how can you expect to lead an ordinary life?” ~ Marmee, Little Women

Difficult experiences are our teachers. They help us to learn about ourselves and to grow. Overcoming them and moving on helps us to bloom.

I was a curious and precocious child, always wanting to know why and how people worked. Why they did what they did. Why the universe is the way it is. I wanted answers. So much so my father once said he was worried for my future state of mind because one day I would learn that there were no definitive answers, and that if I was not prepared for it, that knowledge would ruin me. I still ask questions but I am less afraid of not knowing with certainty my place in the big picture. Maybe I had my wake up call already. Maybe I have had a few.

As far back at 2007 I’ve wanted to leave my job. I am very unhappy about many things: the way I am valued yet unappreciated; the way I am told to temper my frustration with inefficiency in production and with sub-par contractors; and the way my grievances have been ignored as much as my suggestions for improvements in key areas that could help the business grow and become sustainable. Even though I want out, I stayed for multiple reasons: a sense of loyalty; a passion for the creative side of the business; and being good at what I do. But there are other reasons too: fear of the unknown; doubt that I could be valued elsewhere; fear of no longer having job security; self-conscious worry about what people would say; and yes, complacency.

When I quit drinking I never imagined that this journey would give me so much more than a sober head: an opportunity to heal, a stronger sense of self, a direct line to reserves of strength I never knew I had, resilience, courage, confidence and belief in myself. A year after giving up alcohol and cigarettes I had welcomed more creative endeavours into my life. I was writing and painting more than ever before and beginning to freelance creative work. Now, in my heart I know that I am ready to move on. It was the time to do so a long time ago but now, armed with everything that has been given to me in the last two years, I am ready for new possibilities.

I’m happy to report that on Friday I finally handed in my notice at the place I’ve worked for the past fifteen years. It was an incredible feeling. My boss is not happy about it but I expected that. I did not waiver. I felt years of stress rolling down my back and falling away. I was whatsapping with my sister minutes after and she asked me what I was feeling in that moment. I took stock and replied: relief, gratitude, peace and joy.

“You’re ready to go out and find a good use for your talent. Go, and embrace your liberty. And see what wonderful things come of it.” ~ Marmee, Little Women.

In terms of what’s next I have only a simple plan: Follow my heart and be very wise about spending in the meantime. Haha.

“I want to do something different. I don’t know what it is yet but I’m on the watch for it.” Jo, Little Women

 Love and light, Phoenix

~*~

On February 6th 2014, four days after I stopped drinking alcohol, I started this blog. My two-year soberversary is fast approaching and my January posts, inspired by fictional philosophers who’ve inspired me with their bad-ass thoughts, is a way of celebrating my journey. I hope, in turn, to inspire you on yours.

Advertisements

The Universe In My Mouth

pw_lk_krishna_showing_universe_01_300

Hannibal Lecter: “I’ve always found the idea of death comforting. The thought that my life could end at any moment frees me to fully appreciate the beauty, and art, and horror of everything this world has to offer.”

While somewhat morbid I actually understand what Hannibal meant. About a year after I gave up drinking and smoking, after the months of self-analysis and clarity that hit me square in the face, after the dizzying euphoria of my body healing and beginning to function well, and after the initial sadness and subsequent mourning period for a decade lost, I developed a marked lust for life.

While I’ve always loved so many aspects of life, I found my appetite for wanting more growing. I truly felt, and still do feel, like I’ve been given a second chance and the happiness I feel about that is made even sweeter because of the role I played in being rewarded with this second chance.

I’m proud of myself for recognizing that to successfully stop drinking was not only go to be about abstaining but also about having the courage to dig deep down to find and understand the reasons for wanting a numbing escape. I am grateful that I endeavoured to be compassionate with myself, to see myself as worth fighting for, and for making a commitment to do what needs to be done.

I have been releasing what does not work for me and what I no longer need. It takes time though, months in some cases, changing habits, de-cluttering my apartment, my computer (tablet and phone), sorting through clothes to donate, healing or letting go of unhealthy relationships. But for every item, bad habit, toxic relationship I get rid of, the clearer and wider the way opens for all the good stuff to find its way to me. I get nervous and excited at the thought of new good things heading my way, and sometimes I can’t wait!

I want to fling my arms wide open, reach out and wrap my arms around ALL of it – the whole Earth, around everyone. I want to talk to people and cry and laugh with them as they tell me their stories, I want to travel. I’ve never been more than 5000 km from my home (and that was only once). I’ve never crossed the Atlantic. The urge I had as a teenager to study ancient cities is now stronger than ever fueled by some underlying sense that I am destined to walk those historical streets. I am pushing my creative boundaries and finding new ways to express myself. And I want more. I want to learn more, create more, say more, do more. For the first time in a really long time I honestly believe I can make a difference in this world. I feel like the Hindu god Krishna, with the whole universe in my mouth. I have so much to offer. So do you my friend. It is time to get to work.

From my second chance to yours,
Phoenix

~*~

On February 6th 2014, four days after I stopped drinking alcohol, I started this blog. My two-year soberversary is fast approaching and my January posts, inspired by fictional philosophers who’ve inspired me with their bad-ass thoughts, is a way of celebrating my journey. I hope, in turn, to inspire you on yours.

The Lowest Point

tumblr_inline_myyi9xdqSf1r1am60

Aang: When we hit our lowest point we are open to the greatest change. 

I’ve found that on our soberversaries it’s customary for us to talk about “The night that changed it all”. My first soberversary was on February 3rd of this year but I wasn’t ready to talk about the night that was a turning point for me. I’m still not but I can talk about what was my lowest point. I was a binge drinker. Which means that I didn’t drink every day, or got drunk every time I drank, but I had problems with limits. Oh and most importantly, I used alcohol as a means of escape instead of dealing with life. Long story short, all binge drinkers can and will become alcoholics at some point. By the time I reached my low point I was drinking at least three times for the week and getting drunk about four times for the month. Once or twice a year I’d get drunk enough to have to rely on loved ones to drive me home. The last night was one of those nights. I’m not ready to talk about the details but I will say that my sister was there that night.

The next day when I called her to “find out what happened” the night before, she was calm, collected, and did not mince words. She is a highly practical and straightforward person and there was no emotion expressed as she narrated the events of the night before. Her tone of voice was one of resignation and acceptance. She said that she was not angry with me, but had decided that she would be better off if she removed herself from my life. THAT hit me very hard.

I know I did not quit drinking for my sister but her actions that day forced me to look at the kind of person I was. Who I knew myself to be deep down inside was not the person on the outside. The Me on the outside was drowning in alcohol related side effects and becoming someone who had no understanding of herself and honestly did not like herself very much. I ran from my issues, numbed them with alcohol, squashed any chance of healing or growing, and lashed out at loved ones, especially those closest to me. Like my sister. The fact that I could hurt her so much that she would consider removing herself from my life shook me to my core. It was my worst day.

And, in the end, it was also my best day. It was the day I changed my life.

Love and light, Phoenix.

~*~

This is Post L, in the A to Z Blogging Challenge 2015. My 26 posts are inspired by the quotes from Avatar: The Last Airbender and The Legend of Korra, two Emmy award-winning animated television series created and produced by Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko. The setting for both series is in an Asian-influenced world of martial arts and elemental manipulation. The shows drew on elements from East Asian, South Asian, and Western culture, and (aside from the kick-ass story lines, beautifully developed characters and exceptional storyboards) are where I found a wealth of inspiration and perspective on my own life.

The rest of my A to Z 2015 posts can be found here.

Letter in Time

My three year old nephew wanted to see photos of his mummy as a little girl so, being the unofficial family historian, I went looking. I came across a letter I wrote in 1995 to my future self as part of a cousins project. I somehow managed to convince eight of us to write letters to our future selves that we promised to open a decade later. Hilarity ensued when we opened our time capsules as we had also saved photos of ourselves hoping to embarrass one another a decade later. A few of us, myself included, surrendered the same letters to the time capsule once more, to be opened in ten years.

It’s funny, even twenty years ago I was quite dramatic. Aside from the usual love-struck lines about “the love of my life” back then, there are sentences that make me pause now:

Excerpt: “Ten years from now I will be an archaeologist. I would’ve visited Egypt and stood at the foot of Ra. I have been climbed the Great Pyramids and the explored Grand Canyon. I have been to the Pyramid of the Moon and the Pyramid of the Sun.”

I didn’t go back to school to get that degree. So many things happened around that time: my parents’ terrible divorce and my subsequent emotional disconnect from them; my dad’s decision not to allow me to transfer to a university with the archaeology program because it was too far from home; my anger about that channeled into the pub on campus; the less than intelligent choices I made back then; the incident that summer in Florida.

I think I spent the greater part of two decades running from everything that happened back then. Of course, with alcohol being my running companion many more mistakes were made. I judged and damned myself for everything that happened and that guilt never really went away. I blamed myself for so much, and while it is important to own up to and acknowledge mistakes I’ve made, it has taken me a long time to accept that I also critically judged myself as broken, hopeless and unworthy because of those mistakes. I’m still working on reversing the self-inflicted damage.

Excerpt: “I have stopped trying to hide from myself. I have stopped being an ass to my mom and I make her smile instead of cry. I have forgiven myself and therefor my dad for destroying our relationship. I can hug my parents again. To my future self: I hope you still believe in unicorns and magic, and that faeries do exist as people who see light and goodness. There IS magic in this world. I hope you found your house by the sea and that all your dreams are coming true. I hope you have forgiven yourself for the mistakes in your past.”

Well, I have stopped being an ass to my mom, and Dad and I are in a much better place than before. I’m doing an okay job with forgiving myself for most of my crap. Would you believe me if I told you that I have accomplished most of this in the one year I’ve been sober? Amazing isn’t it? Needless to say I still look for the light and goodness in everyone I meet, and I still, and always will believe in magic.

Hugs, Phoenix